


i lost a world the other day.

by badgerterritory



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, happiest ending, otherbound au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-29 20:37:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6392842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badgerterritory/pseuds/badgerterritory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She saw through someone else’s eyes, often. The girl was named Alexandra, Lexa, and she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. She was born with black blood. They called her nightblood and filled her head with stories about the Commander, told her all the things she would have to do. Clarke wanted to hold her tight when she cried at night, wanted to help her however she could. But she was just a little kid and so, so far away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i lost a world the other day.

**Author's Note:**

> how many stories will i write with emily dickinson poems as the title? to that i say WELL SIR HOW MANY POEMS HAS EMILY DICKINSON WRITTEN
> 
> reread otherbound the other day, found an e. dickinson poem that inspired me, and here we are. i'm gonna go write a 2000 word fic about girls snuggling now if you don't mind

Clarke had a secret. It was a fairly significant one, one she was scared to tell anyone on the Ark.

She saw through someone else’s eyes, often. The girl was named Alexandra, Lexa, and she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. She was born with black blood. They called her nightblood and filled her head with stories about the Commander, told her all the things she would have to do. Clarke wanted to hold her tight when she cried at night, wanted to help her however she could. But she was just a little kid and so, so far away.

 

Clarke was ten before anyone noticed, ten and knowing Lexa for three years. It had started out simply. Clarke went to sleep, and found herself seeing out of Lexa’s eyes as she tossed and turned, feeling her anxious mind churning. Every night. Clarke began to see herself as a friend to Lexa, despite the one-directional nature of the connection: Clarke saw and felt everything Lexa did, heard her thoughts, but she couldn’t communicate with Lexa. Eventually, it progressed; whenever Clarke closed her eyes for more than a few seconds, she’d slip into Lexa’s head. By the time she was eight, well on her way to nine, she went to Lexa every time she blinked.

It was her mother that noticed, because she was a doctor, and despite Clarke’s best efforts, she was an attentive mother as well. She diagnosed Clarke with epilepsy. Specifically, a rare type of photosensitive epilepsy that triggered absence seizures on blinking. Seizures accompanied by hallucinations. That was how they explained Lexa, and Anya, and how Clarke had suddenly invented an entirely new language all on her own.

And meanwhile, Clarke watched Lexa. Watched as she attended lessons by a man named Titus. Watched as Anya taught her to fight. Watched as she learned about the nightbloods, how they had connections to each other, and to soul-pairs. Lexa worried that she was never going to find her soul-pair. “Don’t worry,” Anya said to her nightly, tousling her hair roughly. “You’ll find her eventually.”

It was the first time Clarke felt as if someone believed her, even if Anya wasn’t actually talking to her.

 

When Clarke was fourteen, she spoke Trigedasleng on accident for the first time. She was in class, trying not to blink; Anya and Lexa were fighting, and she didn’t enjoy the bruising, the near-broken state of her arm. Pain hit her like electrostatic every time she blinked. She closed her stinging eyes just as Anya’s blade hit Lexa on the side of the head, and she cried out.

She only knew it happened once she opened her eyes and everyone was staring at her. Clarke flushed and left immediately, running to her mother’s office. She climbed onto the cot that was permanently reserved for her, curled up under the blanket, and waited. Her mother came, asked her if she was okay, and Clarke ignored her, murmuring Trigedasleng to herself, closing her eyes to see Lexa laughing with Anya, cradling her arm against her chest.

 

Clarke stumbled out of the dropship and looked around, but she didn’t see trees and glorious, beautiful dirt like the others; she saw Trikru territory, heard Anya’s voice as she asked the Commander for orders. Lexa. The Commander. Clarke had seen the initiation through Lexa’s eyes, felt the Commander’s spirit choosing her. Entering her. Felt Lexa communing with their memories.

Finally, Lexa ordered Anya to investigate and determine who these people who fell out of the sky were. Anya left, and Lexa retired to her rooms, pressing her hands into her face. “I wonder if it is because I am such a failure of a Commander,” Lexa said, “that you haven’t revealed yourself to me.” Lexa sat in silence, and Clarke wanted to break through, to scream at Lexa that she was there, that she wanted nothing more than to help Lexa. She remembered what Titus taught: _You will find your soul-pair, and they will know you better than your parents, your siblings, your lover; they will be more than your parent, your sibling, your lover. They will be the missing part of you, and they will share your burdens until you die._

She couldn’t share Lexa’s burdens from so far away, but she could make them easier.

The first night, she snuck away from camp.

 

The first scout Clarke met was a man named Lincoln. She fell to her knees in a posture of surrender and said, “Ai laik Klark kom Skaikru.” Skaikru seemed the simplest solution; they came from the sky, they were Skaikru. “I need to speak with the Commander.” She said that in English, suspecting he’d understand. He did, and glared at her with suspicion, and took her to Indra, the leader of the closest village.

To Indra Clarke said, “Ai laik Klark kom Skaikru,” and then, “I need to speak with the Commander,” again, folding her hands in her lap. “I do not speak for my people, only myself. And I need to speak with the Commander.” She knew the politics involved; she knew she’d have to step carefully. Soul-pairs were sacred, a fact not widely known outside the nightbloods and the Commander’s inner circle. Mainly because soul-pairs could be leveraged, as anyone important to them could be leveraged, and many Commanders would do unthinkable things to protect their soul-pairs.

Indra took her to Anya in chains. Once they were alone, Clarke sat down. She folded her legs under her and placed her hands in her lap, palms up. “You taught her this,” Clarke murmured. “A way of meditation. She laughed at you. At the idea of finding peace.” Clarke closed her eyes, seeing Lexa pacing, and added, “She’s thinking of it right now. Wishing she hadn’t laughed.”

Anya didn’t fall to her knees, weeping gratefully that her Lexa finally found her soul-pair. Nor did she embrace Clarke and apologize for Indra’s treatment. Clarke would probably have been disappointed if either of those things happened. Anya simply unlocked Clarke’s chains and said, “Go back to your people. Tell them to lay down their arms and surrender. The Commander will come to you.”

Clarke nodded, and was careful to be respectful in her farewells. Lincoln escorted her back to the camp, where she was immediately accosted, everyone asking her where she’d went, what she’d been doing with the grounders, don’t you know they attacked us, and Clarke said, “Eat my ass, all of you, I was never hallucinating and I just saved everyone.”

Lincoln laughed.

 

It took a few days to explain it to everyone, and to convince them to lay down their weapons, throwing them all into a pile outside camp. Bellamy in particular took some time, but once people started choosing peace over life, he followed them. The day after, Lexa arrived, and Clarke felt her nervousness, mirrored it, ached for her. She sat in front of the dropship with her eyes closed, watching through Lexa’s eyes, only opening them when Lexa got close.

And there she was.

Clarke stood, and accidentally blinked, and she was Lexa watching her, thoughts swirling, which set her brain spinning, and she blinked again, saw Lexa growing concerned, getting off her horse, and the motion threw her off, and she was tipping over, and then she was in Lexa’s arms, blink, watching herself, blink, seeing herself like Lexa saw her, blink, radiant, beautiful, absolutely beautiful.

“Ai sou,” Lexa whispered, _my soul_ , brushing Clarke’s hair away from her face. “Ai sou. Ai sou.” And Clarke pulled her close, squeezing her tight, and “I’m here,” she said, “I’ve always been here, Lexa, I swear,” and Lexa laughed, and said her name, then again, and Clarke said hers back, and they held each other.

Clarke was liable to drown in Lexa’s happiness, but that definitely wasn’t the worst way to go.


End file.
